


i'm the violence in the pouring rain

by flyinglikearaven (Love_Sparkles_Happiness)



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, College AU, F/F, I Tried, Modern AU, So much angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-29
Updated: 2015-09-29
Packaged: 2018-04-24 00:41:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4898923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Love_Sparkles_Happiness/pseuds/flyinglikearaven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>bellamy's dead, octavia's out for revenge, and maya's there when octavia needs her most</p>
            </blockquote>





	i'm the violence in the pouring rain

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RandomCat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RandomCat/gifts).



> hey RandomCat here's your fic! I try never to turn down a request, and this one really got me noticing the chemistry between these two. hope it's okay xxx
> 
> (i haven't proof read i have so much work i should actually be doing)
> 
> (more people should write this pairing)

It was just your average morning to be honest. College classes _way_ too fucking early (there wasn’t enough coffee in the _world_ ), a cranky professor (resulting in an even crankier Octavia) and the cute girl in the front row hadn’t looked at her _once_ (even though her hair was _extremely_ on point today? Why was this always the case?)

 

Except it _wasn’t_ just your average day. Because Bellamy wasn’t here – because Bellamy was _gone_.

 

One year – it had been one whole year since her brother’s death. A solitary tear slid down her cheek, hanging on her lashes for a prolonged moment before letting go.

 

She missed him _so much._ He knew her so well, knew everything about her, and the absence of someone who cared like that, who cared that _much_ , physically hurt her. She missed his smile, hiss messy hair, the tiny freckles dotted across his nose. She missed the way he knew when she was upset, and how he would just scoop her up onto his lap and tell her all that stupid nerdy Roman history that she “had to like, because you were named after it, O.”

 

Pulling her keys out of her pocket, she turned into their apartment – her apartment, dammit – but as she did, three looming figures caught her attention from the corner of her eye.

 

Cage Wallace and his older brother Dante, with along with their constant tag-a-long Carl Emerson, were walking past her street. There were the thugs of the neighbourhood; they knew what they wanted, and they took it. You didn’t mess with those lot, so collectively tall that their gang was known as the Mountain Men. You mess with the Mountain Men, and always, _always_ ,too many innocent people get hurt.

 

But how dare they. How _fucking dare they._ After what they’d done – how could they walk on the exact street where, one year ago, they had murdered her brother?

 

* * *

 

 

It had all happened so fast. The siblings had heard screaming on the way home from visiting Bellamy’s girlfriend Raven (Octavia liked Raven – she was smart and funny and goddamn beautiful, although don’t tell Bell she was into his girlfriend).

 

“Wait here, O.” He had said. She didn’t, of course, how could she? She ran after him, tracking him to the source of the horrific sound.

 

Their neighbor, Fox, was pinned against the wall half naked. She was blue in the winter air, and shivering, skin exposed in all the wrong places for the freezing temperature (there was snow on the floor, coating the Blake’s footprints already). “Bellamy, help,” she sobbed. Cage was pressed against her, one hand on her stomach, kissing her neck. He looked up when she spoke.

 

“Cage, what are you doing?” Bellamy was tired – it had been a long day as a TA, and now he had a ton of marking.

 

Cage smiled, a cruel grimace, and his older brother and protégé stepped out of the shadows. “I’m fucking this little bitch, Blake, what does it look like?” He pinched Fox’s bare stomach hard and she gasped in pain. “And she’s _fucking enjoying it_. Run along Bellamy, or it’ll be worse for you and that little sister or yours.” Octavia was behind the wall, peering out unnoticed as the as the scene unfolded.

 

“Get away from her, Wallace.” He brother said, taking a step forwards.

 

“Or what? You’ll make me? Even an idiot like you can count, Blake, and there’s three of us.”

 

“Yeah, I’ll make you. _Leave her alone, Cage._ ” And despite the three to one ratio, he almost made it. Fox wasn’t so lucky – Emerson knifed her first and she bled out, screaming. Then they turned to her brother. He was so close.

 

Octavia saw the whole thing.

 

* * *

 

 

She was on them in a matter of seconds. They didn’t see her coming, they didn’t have a chance. A year ago, she was defenceless, couldn’t do anything but watch as her brother was knifed in the chest. But this time? Oh, Octavia was motherfucking ready alright.

 

She tried to remember what her martial arts teacher, Lincoln, had taught her. Chin up, confidence up, know where you’re striking before you do, “it’s all in your head, sky girl.”

 

Cage was on the floor in two seconds flat – he was out from the moment she toughed him, punching him unconscious with nerve manipulation. As he collapsed like a rag doll, she turned on the others.

 

Judo-flipped to the floor in one swift movement, the older Wallace cried out in pain as his leg folded back on itself. Carl Emerson tried to run, but Octavia whipped off her shoe and threw it, hard, catching him on the head and knocking him out cold just a few metres away.

 

Quickly, she straddled the oldest member of the team and, forgetting all her hard training from the past year, punched him senseless around the face while her foot put pressure on his bent leg. His face went white – at least, she thought it did; it was a little hard to tell from the messy combination of his blood and her rage.

 

“Octavia!” A fierce but melodic voice sounded from behind her, and then two strong hands were pulling her off him.

 

“Let me _go_!”

 

“It’s over, O, _you won_.”

 

The hands guided her into a hug, and the person holding her smelled like lemon soap, fresh and citing through the pungent copper scent of the blood coating Octavia’s knuckles. Her cardigan was soft and reminded her of the ones her mother used to wear; she buried her face in it, and sobbed.

 

Octavia Blake hadn’t cried since the day her brother was killed. But she was crying now.

 

Eventually, she calmed herself down (the occasional rubbing hand on her back wasn’t too bad either, she supposed). And she looked up. And realized who it was.

 

“Maya!” Her hands went under her eyes immediately, wiping away the tears. “Shit, shit, shit.”

 

Maya smiled, kindly. “What, I’m not _that_ bad.”

“No- that’s not what I meant- I just- urgh- you sit at the front of my psych class and you’re really cute and smart and I can never seem to talk to you and now I _am_ and I’m babbling and it’s like this and- I’m sorry, you’ll never date me now.”

 

Maya took her hand in her own, thumb rubbing soothingly over the top of it. “Isn’t that my choice?”

 

Octavia looked up, shocked but hopeful. “You’re joking, right?”

 

“Not at all.”

 

“Would you let me take you on a date, Maya?”

 

“Of course – but on one condition.”

 

Octavia smiled. “Anything.”

 

“You tell me why you decided those three needed to die.”

 

She nodded. Then she saw her reflection in the window of a car. “Oh _fuck_. Look at me.” Her makeup had run when she had started crying and was spread in a peculiar pattern across her face from where she’d rubbed at it. She checked her watch. “And I have class in twenty minutes.”

 

“Me too – and don’t worry, you look hot – it looks like war paint.”

 

In times when they came to reflect on their… perhaps unusual meeting, Maya would always refer to their next date as their second (“It had blood and violence and tears, O, what about that doesn’t sound like a first date?”)


End file.
